Aryn Crawln: ET
by idk1444
Summary: SGA story with an OC as main character. Going be AU eventually. Aryan Crawln is a runner, like Ronan was, but he's only a teenager. He meets the Atlantis team. See what happens. Set before Carson dies, cuz he's the best. WIP. Also, Disclaimer: Anything you recognize from Stargate or Stargate: Atlantis is not mine.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Panic. Chaos. Fear.

The Wraith had come again. Villagers ran in the darkness, hopelessly trying to avoid the monsters. These days they only came every few years to the small inconsequential village on the planet Piontrek, but it was still awful…still terrifying. Amongst the chaos a little boy, no more than three or four, stood screaming. Tears streamed down his face as he cried for his parents, lost somewhere in the insanity of the culling.

One Wraith dart, separate from the others, glided around the outskirts of the tiny village, almost as if it was looking for a particular target. Suddenly, it swerved toward the lone little boy and, in an instant, he was lost in the blue glow and transported up into the alien craft.

Later, the boy, Aryn, would remember nothing. He would only remember crying for his momma and da' in the middle of the village, then a strange, somehow scary, blue light, and hen waking up in the forest three weeks later (though he had no idea so much time had passed).

Aryn's family had survived miraculously survived the culling. His parents were overjoyed to see their oldest child stumble into the village, exhausted, dehydrated, and still shaking with fear. They barely questioned where he had been the past three weeks. They were just happy to have their little boy back, as were his two little sisters, one year-old twins. Unfortunately, the rest of the villagers were not so accepting. At first, they questioned how a three year-old could have possibly survived on his own for so long, but then a woman came forward who had seen little Aryn taken into the dart. With this news, the questioning turned to threatening. Clearly, the villagers claimed, the boy was sent by the wraith as a spy, or a weapon. The monsters had obviously brain-washed him or switched him with some evil being or something. He couldn't be trusted, couldn't be treated as a normal child, no matter how innocent he may appear. Something had to be done.

It started small. At first things went missing, tools or food or clothes. Not enough to seriously hurt the family of five, but enough that Aryn's parents noticed, and began to worry. The once kind and welcoming fellow villagers were now cold and sometimes even cruel. They considered leaving the small planet, but Piontrek had few strong trading partners, and they feared the hostility would follow them through the Ring of the Ancestors. Instead, they endured.

Five years went by. Then the Wraith returned.

Aryn, now nine, was gathering wood with his sisters not far from the village when he was overcome by a strange and very unfamiliar feeling. It was like ice, and at the same time like fire, flowing through his veins. At the same kind there was a strange pinprick of pressure in a dark corner of his mind, like something was there that shouldn't be.

Something Aryn's family never told the rest of the village, for good reason, was that little Aryn did not return from the Wraith exactly as he had left. For months after his return he had terrible nightmares, flashes of his three weeks in captivity. That was to be expected. But what really worried them were the small scars on the boy's neck. They were precise vertical cuts, still red and healing when Aryn stumbled back into the village. There were three of them running parallel on the back of his neck, about three inches long. There was also a bigger, thicker, angrier looking wound, less healed than the others, on his back, just between his right shoulder blade and the spine. It was held closed by ugly black stiches, carelessly made and uneven. Aryn's parents had no idea what they were or what caused them, but they worried, as any parents would.

As Aryn grew older he began to understand that something about him was different. At first he noticed how the other villagers, besides his family, acted differently towards him. Eventually, he noticed enough to ask his parents why, and the told him it wasn't his fault, that the others were just being idiots. They said it was because of his being taken when he was little, and that they were just scared. They said it was nothing to worry about. They were wrong.

Now, Aryn knew something was happening, something to do with the Wraith. He dropped his gathered bundle of sticks and told his sisters to do the same, then urged them to run home as fast as they could. He should have followed them, but instead he went to the Ring, drawn to it by some unknown force inside of him. He made it to the Ring in time to see three darts leave the planet. He worried who had been taken.

Aryn's parents were gone, culled by the Wraith. The monsters had never visited twice in less than a decade, not for centuries. The villagers were shaken, terrified they would come back at any moment and finish them off. A young couple, unable to have children of their own, took in Aryn's little sisters, but no one would care for the boy. They blamed him for their misfortune. This must all be his fault. The Wraith were angry because he had gotten away all those years ago, or something like that. Without his parents to shield him, the nine year old was subjected to the full brunt of the villagers anger and fear. They ran him out of the village, throwing stones at him like some unwanted animal. No one would share food with him, no one would give him shelter. He had no choice. He left.

Aryn was resting when he heard the Ring of the Ancestors activate. As usual, he'd set up camp close enough so he'd know when it was activated, but far enough that he was out of sight. Every once in a while he was lucky enough to find nice cozy cave that wasn't already taken. This was one such time.

As far as he could tell the only people one this planet all lived in the one small village he'd found, a few miles from the Ring. So far, none of them knew he was here. He rarely tried to make contact with anyone unless absolutely necessary. Less trouble all around, that way. Besides, he only stayed in one place for two or three days at most in order to stay ahead of the wraith. It kept him alive, but it was lonely and—maybe even worse—boring.

So, every once in a while he suddenly found himself poking his nose where it didn't belong and getting all mixed up in something that wasn't his business and was likely to get him killed. Looked like today was one of those days.

He was sunbathing under one of the tree near the cave, thinking about going over to the village and actually talking to someone, anyone, when the Ring activated. Thinking anything to do with travelers, either coming or going, was likely more interesting then another tiny underdeveloped village, he went to see who was calling.

He rose lithely from the ground and pulled on his shirt. Checking to be sure he had all his weapons and mentally scanning for any wraith in the area—something he always did almost subconsciously—he ran nimbly through the dense forest, careful to be quiet and unseen. As he neared the Ring, he slowed to a walk and crouched down, watching and listening.

There were four of them, three men and one woman. Two of the men and the woman wore matching clothes that looked like some sort of military uniform. The third man was dressed differently, but appeared to be with them, not an enemy. They all carried weapons—guns, but more advanced than those the Genii carried. They moved like warriors, cautious and observant, but at the same time relaxed. They were speaking, well, the two uniformed men were, but Aryn couldn't hear from his position, so he carefully moved closer and followed their path in the direction of the village.

"I can't believe you, Rodney," said one of the men, the black haired one in the uniform. "Everyone knows the originals are better. There's no question!" He said it with a joking, mock-serious tone and from that Aryn figured they were friends, not just comrades.

"Ha…of course you would think that, Sheppard," the man called Rodney answered, laughing in a way that made it sound like he thought himself superior to everyone around him. He had short light-brown hair and had more of a look of an academic or scientist then a warrior, Aryn thought. "The newer movies are obviously better filmed and the special effects are amazing compared to the ridiculous light shows in the old ones," he went on in that condescending tone. Sheppard frowned at that. Aryn thought it sounded like they were bickering about something frivolous just for the sake of it and correctly guessed that they did this often.

"What are you discussing?" asked the woman in a resigned tone.

 _Yep,_ thought Aryn. _They do this all the time and it's starting to bug her._

"Star Wars," answered Sheppard, "the greatest sci-fi movies of all time." He paused, glaring at Rodney, before saying, "The original three, that is."

"Don't listen to him Teyla," responded Rodney. "He has no idea what he's talking about." The woman, Teyla, just rolled her eyes. Sheppard and Rodney continued to bicker back and forth and Teyla moved up to walk beside the third man, who had yet to speak. Aryn was following them from off to the side of the path, so he was able to move up as well to hear their conversation.

"Have you observed anyone, Ronon?" Teyla asked. The large dark-skinned man took a moment to glance around with keen eyes before answering.

"Nothing," Ronon answered gruffly. Aryn breathed a little easier, knowing he was undetected. This group seemed friendly enough, but they were heavily armed and clearly ready for a fight. He had learned long ago not to trust easily. Just as he was starting to relax he heard a twig snap up ahead. He barely had time to tense before three men emerged from the trees on the trail ahead and fired wraith stunners at the group. Aryn ducked down, careful not to be seen, and saw that two more men had come out behind Sheppard and Rodney. In a matter of seconds all four were on the ground, unconscious. Only the big guy, Ronon, had managed to pull his gun before losing consciousness. He even got a shot off, but it missed and went wide as he fell to the ground.

Unfortunately, Aryn hadn't noticed the attackers in time and they had noticed him. As soon as he realized this he tried to run, but was too late and soon joined the others on the forest floor. His last thought before slipping into unconsciousness was, _Why do I always have to stick my nose where it doesn't belong?_


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Okay, so, first off, let me restate my disclaimer. Everything recognizable if either from Stargate Atlantis or, later in the story, Stargate SG1. I'm just messing with it for fun. This is a story I actually wrote back in high school, when I first watched the shows, but I lost all the copies I had back then, so I am working on rewriting everything. Back then I didn't know other people actually wrote this stuff and posted it. This story is about an original character, Aryn Crawln, who grew up in the Pegasus Galaxy. He was captured and experimented on by the Wraith as a three year old, causing him and his family to be ostracized by the other villager. When he was nine, the Wraith returned and, with his parents no longer there to protect him, Aryn was effectively banished from the village and planet. Not long after leaving, the Wraith began to hunt him, much like they did Ronon before he ran into the Earthlings (love that word). So Aryn's been on his own for about 6 years now. Some of his background will be revealed throughout the course of the story. I have no beta and suck at proof-reading, so sorry about that. Hope you like it! Reviews are much appreciated!**

 **Chapter Two**

John gingerly opened his eyes as he recognized the all-too familiar throbbing in his head as the after-effects of being hit by a wraith stunner. He moved a little as possible, trying not to attract attention, and attempting to figure out what the hell just happened. He remembered coming through the 'Gate to another pointlessly numbered planet on a routine reconnaissance mission. McKay and he were arguing about something stupid to pass the time. What was it? Oh yeah, Star Wars. Then, out of nowhere, three guys jumped out ahead of them and fired wraith stunners at Teyla and Ronon. There must have been some behind as well, because that's the last thing he remembered.

He shifted slightly and discovered that his hands were bound behind him and he was leaning against something. Turning his head, he saw that it was the rest of his team and they were also waking up. They were in the same small clearing where they'd been ambushed, tied back to back on the ground in the approximate middle of the clearing. Off to one side stood three of the attackers, standing guard by the looks of it. John was shocked to see a fifth captive in the form of a teenage boy, about 14 or 15, laying off to the other side, also with his hands tied behind his back and still unconscious. _Must have been hit after us,_ John thought. The boy looked like he was starting to come around.

As John watched the boy opened his eyes. For a second he looked confused and then scared as he jerked his arms, only to find them bound behind him. He looked around, trying to stay calm, and took in his surroundings, much like John had moments ago. After noting where the bad guys were, the boy turned his eyes to the other captives and his eyes met John's. John opened his mouth to say something reassuring, though he wasn't sure what, but he never got the chance.

One of the three remaining attackers, presumably the leader, moved forward to talk to John. He had an annoyingly smug smile on his face as he sauntered over.

"Well, well, if it isn't the famous Colonel Sheppard," he sneered. John turned to face him, a cocky smirk plastered on his face.

"The one and only," he replied, flippantly. John saw out of the corner of his eye that the boy was watching everything very closely and wondered in the back of his mind why the young boy didn't seem more frightened by what was happening. He had no time to dedicate to the thought now, so he pushed it to the back of his mind to contemplate later.

Aryn was frightened. He was just good at not showing it. That, and he was much more angry than frightened. Angry at the bastards who stunned him and tied him up. Angry at the group of newcomers that came through the Ring, because clearly these guys were after them and Aryn was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Angry at himself for being so bored he just had to get involved and then for being too distracted listening to the travelers' conversation to realize he wasn't the only one hiding in the trees. Yep. He was definitely more angry than frightened.

As the lead captor started pointlessly monologue-ing about how great he was to have led the capture of the "ever-elusive Colonel Sheppard" and his team, Aryn was working a way out of the situation. He'd been captured a lot over the years, by a lot of different people. It wasn't something he was proud of, but had been unavoidable as a nine year old alone in the Pegasus Galaxy. The Wraith hunted him, so he couldn't stay in one place to earn money of goods to trade for food, so he had to steal. Then villagers hunted him. After a while, he learned how to move unseen, to steal and then be gone without anyone knowing, and he learned how to fight. And, of course, he'd had a few nasty run-ins with the Genii, but that was mostly because those paranoid bomb-building farmers and their stupid harvest festivals annoyed him. If the stupid festival hadn't been so boring he never would have wandered off and found the stupid bunker anyway. And if they had just bothered to _lock_ the damn thing, he would have left well enough alone.

To get back to the point, Aryn had gotten on the wrong side of many people in this galaxy, and so it had been necessary for him to get out of many sticky situations, much like this one. So, as the three captors had their attention fixed on Colonel Sheppard and his team, Aryn wriggled his bound hands behind his back, reaching for the almost paper thin knife he kept hidden in the lining on the inside of his belt for situation just like this.

"Well, you folks definitely seem to know who we are," Sheppard said. "How about you return the favor?"

"Of course," answered the leader. "I am Sekez."

"Nice to meet you," Sheppard said sarcastically. Aryn could tell by the slight movements of Sheppard's team's arms that they were trying, unsuccessfully, to escape their bonds. Sheppard was trying to keep the bad guys distracted so they wouldn't notice his team attempting escape. "So why, exactly, are you, ya' know, capturing us in a haze of glory, and whatnot? I'm still not real clear on that. Heck, I don't even know you. Genii?"

The two men who had yet to speak laughed. But Sekez looked angry. Insulted, even. Definitely not Genii then.

"We are NOT Genii," sneered Sekez. "No, we are much greater. We follow no mere human. We were chosen to worship a much higher being…"

 _Uh-oh_ , though Aryn. He rapidly sawed through the last of his bonds, the leather cord around his ankles. He glanced around for anything he could use as a weapon and settled on a sturdy looking stick, about three inches in diameter and three feet long. Not the best, but it'd have to do.

The fifteen year old rose silently to his feet, careful to stay out of the captors line of sight, stick in his right hand and thin knife in his left. He met Sheppard's eyes and the man moved his eyes rapidly to the trees behind Aryn, then back, silently telling him to run. But Aryn had been up against worse odds than this. And there was no way he was letting these filthy traitors get away. Aryn knew what they were. They were the lowest of the low: _Wraith Worshippers._

"We have the great honor of following the true rulers of this galaxy," Sekez went on, unaware of the threat looming behind him. "We follow the Wrai…" He trailed of and fell to the ground, unconscious. Aryn stood behind him, half of his impromptu weapon still in his hand. It had broken upon contact with Sekez's head. _So much for using this as a weapon,_ he thought dismally.

He barely had time to think before the two others charged him. They had spread out in a semicircle around Sheppard's team, with Sekez in the middle, so both lackys were about ten feet away, on opposite side. Reflexes trained from years of living on the run, and before that years of living in a village where everyone hated him, Aryn moved without thinking. The now useless hunk of wood was thrown expertly at the attacker on his right, spinning through the air until it hit him square between the eyes. He joined Sekez on the forest floor.

The other man was more cautious. He drew a sword from his belt and approached Aryn purposefully. Aryn turned to face him, switching the small knife over to his right hand. They sized each other up for a minute, then the man lunged forward, swinging the weapon to cut into the boy's side. Aryn leapt back and to the side, barely escaping the blade. Luckily, the man had overreached and was slow to recover. Aryn used the opening to move in close and drove the flimsy blade into the man's neck, effectively killing him.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks to my one and only reviewer, Adela! I hope you like this one. To the rest of you non-reviewers: feedback please!**

 **Chapter Three**

The man fell to the ground, the boy's knife sticking out of his neck grotesquely. John watched apprehensively as the boy stared down at the fallen man, breathing slowly, barely even tired after taking on the three grown men. As the boy continued to stare at the dead man, his back to John and the team, John began to worry that the boy was too traumatized by the act of killing the man, rather brutally, to act. Although, judging by the way he took out those three, this probably wasn't the first time he'd taken a human life.

 _Where does someone so young, even in this galaxy, learn to fight, to kill, like that?_ John wondered. He pushed the disturbing thought out of his mind and focused on the task at hand: escape. There were still the other two ambushers unaccounted for. If what the leader, Sekez, said was true, and they were Wraith worshippers, then the other two had probably gone to get the Wraith. Which was bad. They needed to get out of there, and fast.

He turned to Ronon, on his left. "Any luck getting those ropes lose?" Ronon's only answer was a frustrated grunt and a jerk of his arm, which effectively jerked all of their arms, as they were tied to together back-to-back.

"How about you, Teyla?"

"No, Colonel Sheppard," she answered, also frustrated. "The knots are extremely efficient. Perhaps he," she indicated the boy with a nod of her head, "will be of some help.

"I'm not having any luck either, thanks for asking," said Rodney in is usual _nobody values my opinion even though it's obviously the most important one_ voice. John ignored him and turned his attention back to the boy, who had moved to inspect the jumbled pile of belongings the attackers had taken from them. He moved quickly and efficiently, strapping a large, sheathed blade to his waist and slinging what looked like a bow and a quiver or arrows across his back. He also pulled several more smaller blades out of the pile and hid them away in various places in his clothing. Clearly, he was getting ready to move out. All the weapons, and the familiarity with which the teenager handled them made John wonder again who this boy was and what his life was like. John called out to the boy, hoping he'd at least untie them before he left.

"Hey, kid. You think you could give us a hand here?" he asked, trying to sound both commanding and nonthreatening. The boy turned to him, regarding the team with a thoughtful look. He glanced around the clearing, gaze touching briefly on both of the still unconscious men, the turned to look in the direction of the gate, before finally looking back at the four still on the ground. Apparently coming to a decision, the boy mumbled something under his breath, then came towards them in smooth, quick strides, obviously in a hurry to get out of the area.

He pulled the large knife, almost a sword really, at his belt as he came. John and the other tensed. The boy noticed.

"I won't harm you," he said quickly, his words slightly accented. "But before I free you, you must promise the same." He had stopped a few feet in front of them. As he spoke he looked them over, eyes lingering on Ronon, the obvious warrior, before landing firmly on John, the equally obvious leader. John met his almost fluorescent blue-green eyes squarely.

"You don't attack us, we don't attack you," he said curtly, not wasting time. "You have my word."

The boy only hesitated a second more before moving forward again. He deliberately went to John's right side, opposite Ronon, and freed John first. Next was Teyla, and then Rodney. John was impressed by the boy's ability to perceive Ronon as the most obvious threat to him. But they didn't have time.

"I gave you my word," John said impatiently as he moved to stand. "We won't harm you. He's really just a big teddy bear anyway," he joked. The boy gave in an cut the ropes binding the large Satedan's hands, but he wasted no time in backing away from the threatening man.

Ronon was on his feet in a second, turning to face the boy. He eyed him distrustfully, but after a moment he turned away to gather his weapons and gear with the others.

John immediately jumped into action mode once he was sure Ronon and the kid weren't going to be at each other's throats, at least not any time soon.

"Alright," he said in a commanding voice. "We need to get out of here as soon as possible, preferably without being seen. Rodney, anything on the Life Signs Detecter?"

"Nothing between us and the gate," the scientist answered.

"Good, hopefully we can make it back to the 'Gate before the Wraith turn up. Ronon, you take point. Teyla, keep an 'eye' out for the Wraith," John said, giving her a meaningful look. They usually avoided telling anyone about Teyla's latent Wraith DNA and her ability of sense and sometimes enter the minds of them. Most people in Pegasus would sooner kill anyone with any sort of connection to the Wraith than listen to explanations. John turned to the boy.

"It'd probably be safest if you came with us for now," he said, trying not to order the boy around, but it was hard not to since he was only about fourteen.

The boy looked like he wanted to resist, but just nodded in acceptance. John gave a curt nod in response, and then the set out for the 'Gate at a brisk jog.

Aryn didn't like this. Not at all.

He wasn't bothered by killing the man. Wraith Worshippers often killed other humans in horrible grisly ways, so Aryn knew the man deserved his death. And he wasn't bothered by freeing the Colonel Sheppard's team. They seemed like okay people, and he wouldn't leave anyone to suffer the Wraith. Not even the big guy who kept glaring distrustfully at him. No, what Aryn didn't like was the idea going through the Ring of the Ancestors with people he didn't know or trust to a place he didn't know while he had a great bleeding wound in his side from a damn Wraith Worshipper's sword.

His dark shirt hid it well, and he doubted the others had noticed, but it hurt like hell and the loss of blood was starting to make him dizzy. But this John guy was right, and they needed to leave, fast. Aryn would just have to go through the Ring them, then ditch them as soon as he could. He might never be able to come back to this planet and get the rest of his stuff, but it was all replaceable. Well, mostly. His journal wasn't really something he liked the idea of losing, but he'd survive. He always did.

They were only about half way to the Ring when Aryn's blood ran cold. He had that now familiar feeling of ice and fire running through his veins, and the uncomfortable pinprick of pressure in that corner of his mind. Wraith. They must have come through the Ring! Aryn quickly pushed into the pressure in his mind, careful to hide his presence, but needing to know how many there were. It took less than a second for him to know. Six warriors and one elite. Years of practice made him positive. Damn. Aryn was just debating whether or not to tell the others, and if so what, when the woman, Teyla, stopped in her tracks.

"Stop," she ordered. The other three turned to her, stopping instantly. "The Wraith, they're here."

"How many?" asked the scholarly man, Rodney, Aryn thought his name was.

"I can't be sure," the woman said. "More than one, but no more than ten, I think." Aryn's mind was spinning. She could sense the Wraith, just like he could. Well, not just like, she seemed very unsure about the number and it had taken her a bit longer to notice them, but she could definitely since them. _Maybe…maybe they won't try and kill me. Maybe I can trust them_. Coming to a decision, Aryn spoke up.

"There are seven," he said confidently. "Six warriors and one elite. They're coming this way, using the same path you used when you came. The other two worshippers from the ambush are with them." Aryn maintained a miniscule link with one of the warriors. They were less intelligent, and therefore less likely to notice his presence in their mind. This way he could keep track of them. It was a skill he had perfected over the years, with many near-fatal mistakes along the way.

The four teammates stared at him, temporarily baffled. But they were battle-hardened warriors themselves, Aryn was coming to realize, and recovered quickly.

"You're sure," Sheppard asked.

"Positive," Aryn responded. "We don't have to fight our way out," he went on, not fancying another fight in his current wounded condition. "I know a way around them. We can just wait until they pass us, then leave." He knew these weren't the same as the Wraith who tracked him, so sneaking around would work.

"Why run and hide? There are five of us, only seven of them. We can take 'em," Ronon said.

"I vote for the way that doesn't get us killed or possible fed on," said Rodney in a nervous voice.

John thought for a moment, then nodded to Aryn. "Sorry, Ronon. But we can always fight another day. Let's just get out of here. Lead the way, kid."

John and his team struggled to keep up with the boy as he jogged through the trees. He was obviously accustomed to moving through forests like this, and obviously knew where he was going. He led them off the trail in a wide loop, circling nearly back to the 'Gate before ducking out of sight. John slowed, the stepped forward hesitantly. Looking closely, he could barely discern the mouth of a cave, hidden as it was by vines draping over the entrance. _Good hideout_ , he thought. He motioned for the team to follow the boy inside, going last only after doing a quick check around to reassure himself.

John didn't know what to think of the boy anymore. He obviously knew how to fight, and how to navigate in the woods. He seemed to be on his own, but not bothered by that fact, which told John he had been on his own for a while. He was hesitant to trust them, meaning he had probably trusted and been betrayed in the past. But he was also willing to help them, instead of just disappearing into the trees and leaving them to fend for themselves, so he hadn't lost hope in all people. That was good. And now he could sense the Wraith, like Teyla. Which meant he had Wraith DNA in him, somehow. _Another experiment gone wrong?_ he wondered.

In the cave John saw a few belongings spread about. A spare shirt and some type of book. There had been the remnants of a small fire outside, so the boy had been here probably at least a day, but not long. John glanced around in the gloom, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He found the boy leaning against the opposite wall, rummaging through a bag.

"How far are they," John asked in a hushed voice. The boy didn't even pause as he stuffed his few possessions into what appeared to be his only bag.

"Far enough that we can speak without fear of them hearing. Not far enough that we can risk heading to the Ring yet," he answered.

"We should be gone before they get to that clearing," John said insistently. The boy nodded absently, leaning back against the wall with the packed bay between his feet.

"We will," he said in a tired voice. "They are moving slowly, taking their time. Once they are about half way there, we will go." As he spoke he slid slowly down the wall, stopping only when he was fully sitting on the earth floor. His eyes drifted shut, then fluttered lazily back open, as if he was struggling to keep them open. John was suddenly very worried about the boy.

"Teyla," he said tensely. "Come up here and keep an eye out," he ordered as he moved to the boy's side. He knelt down and reached for the boy, checking him over for wounds. His hands came away from the boy's side sticky with blood. They hadn't noticed it through the dark material of his shirt, but the boy must have been wounded by that worshipper's sword. Lifting his shirt, John could see a long gash in the boys right side.

"Damnit!" he swore, pulling his pack off his back so he could get out a bandage. "Rodney, give me a hand here." Together they moved the nearly unconscious boy so he was lying flat and John wrapped his side with the heavy gauze pad over the deepest part of the wound with the skill born of experience. The boy moaned as he put pressure on the wound.

"Easy, kid. You're gonna be fine," John said, trying to sound soothing. "We know a guy that can patch this right up, no problem." The boy's eyes opened to stare into John's, full of fear and mistrust and pain.

"The Wraith," he struggled to say. "They…hunt me. Follow me. Not safe. They'll come. They always come." John's eyes widened and he looked up at his team. Rodney looked terrified and confused. Teyla was still watching through the mouth of the cave, but John could tell she was tense. Ronon's face was unreadable, which John had taken to meaning he was extremely upset. He met John's eyes. They both knew what that meant. The boy was a Runner, just like Ronon had been. Gently, John rolled the boy onto his left side, careful not to hurt him, and lifted his shirt. There, on his back, between the right shoulder blade and the spine, was a jagged, angry looking scar. The boy had a Wraith tracker in him.


End file.
